


Hanging On Your Words

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-08
Updated: 2011-03-08
Packaged: 2017-10-16 04:33:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A dry cleaning mix-up leads to much more than Ariadne bargained for.</p><p>For the prompt <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/inception_kink/13659.html?thread=31483227#t31483227">They use the same dry cleaner.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Hanging On Your Words

As nice as it was getting a chance to see LA, Ariadne was glad to return to Paris. She had her doctorate to complete, and she couldn't turn in any of the work she had done for the Fischer job. She was too tired to deal with doing laundry at the local laundromat, so she dropped off everything at the dry cleaner's. She was sure something was dry clean only anyway; she had gone through various shops looking for something suitably first class to wear on the flight from Sydney to LA and hadn't once checked labels. In a rush after class a week later, she picked up her clothes and headed home; she had to finish the render on her laptop for her next critique and she _knew_ the professor was going to rip her a new one as soon as he saw the design. He was an old fashioned kind of guy, and didn't like anything sleek or modern, even if it was requested by a client. Her design was heavily influenced by the hotel level that had been Arthur's dream.

Who was she kidding? She missed the team and the work and the dreaming. She missed the easy creation in the dreaming, the camaraderie and the gentler ways the team collaborated.

She didn't get a chance to actually go through the dry cleaning until a few days later, and frowned when she couldn't find the floral scarf she had planned to wear to brighten up her outfit. Instead of the scarf was a man's floral patterned shirt. "Huh," she murmured, taking it out and getting a better look at it. The shirt wasn't that bad, actually, so she didn't necessarily have to call the dry cleaner and pitch a hissy fit. Especially with yet another critique in her schedule.

Ariadne hung the shirt up in her closet and didn't think of it until a free weekend two weeks later. She was wearing a black cami and jeans and was looking for something to layer over the cami when she came across the floral shirt. She remembered the missing floral scarf, and figured that she might as well ask what happened to it. The floral shirt looked really cute with her cami and jeans, and she buttoned the bottom half of the shirt. Deciding against adding a vest or jacket, Ariadne brushed out her hair and applied some lip gloss. With a rare free day and good weather, Ariadne took a walk to the dry cleaner's.

The man at the counter ahead of her was tall with a stocky build, shaggy blond hair and was wearing an orange shirt over khaki slacks. And her floral scarf.

"That's my scarf!" she blurted, unable to stop herself.

The man turned and eyed her up and down. "That's my shirt."

Ariadne blinked. "Eames?"

He merely grinned at her, then turned around to look at the hapless clerk behind the counter. He brought his palm down on the counter with a decisive pat. "Well, then. I guess this clears up the confusion. Have a good day."

Eames took Ariadne by the elbow and steered her out of the dry cleaner's. "Hey! I could've had plans!"

"Of course you do, darling," he said, a trace of sarcasm in his voice. "With me."

"Wh-what?"

"My shirt looks good on you." His smile was easy and saucy at the same time. "I wonder what else of mine will look good on you."

 _You,_ her mind supplied, but she managed not to say so aloud. "I didn't know you were in Paris."

"I did set up shop here temporarily. I've been taking care of things," he said vaguely. "Shall I treat you to breakfast?" he asked.

"Sure," she replied, letting her hand slide down the inside of his arm until their fingers linked. He looked down at her in surprise, then smiled easily at her open expression. "Where have you been since LA?"

He laughed. "Out and about, really. There's always something to do, even if it's not that kind of a job. Those are rare, Ariadne. I wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea of the business, especially if you plan to return to it."

"I haven't decided yet," she sighed. "I'm almost done with my degree, so I really should decide soon. I liked working with everyone, though. The real world just isn't as exciting anymore."

Eames steered her toward a cafe as he laughed. "That's not entirely true, you know. Being on the wrong end of things certainly ups the excitement levels. It's not a world I recommend for everyone, however."

"Oh? Why not?" she asked, curious.

They sat at one of the outdoor tables, and Ariadne looked around as they waited for coffee and croissants. For a moment, she remembered the sidewalk cafe where Dom Cobb had explained the dreaming to her. Eames gave her an assessing look; Ariadne was glad that he wasn't patronizing her or looking at her in pity. It had been strange, but none of the men she had worked with had looked down on her for being the only girl on the team or for being so young and relatively inexperienced. Perhaps that was why she missed it so much. The real world sucked in that respect; she looked too young and few people took her seriously as a result of that. And her height didn't help, if she was going to be honest about it. The combined effect made her look like a little porcelain doll that people were tempted to protect. The team had never once made her feel that way. They had respected her expertise as a real life architect with a gift for dreaming, and it had been good to have that respect. She certainly didn't have it from many people she worked with at school.

"Some people are the kind to stay grounded," he explained slowly. "They have everything solid beneath their feet, they know how their world works. They have rules and stability, and it's a safe thing. Once you're outside those safe boundaries, all bets are off. You don't have stability. You have shifting identities and have to learn to dodge bullets and fists and international companies after your head. You have reputations to uphold for all your different names, and you have to keep track of them and who you allies are."

"Is that why you're such a good forger? That you can do all that?"

Eames' smile was rather self-deprecating. "That, and I can be a complete and utter asshole sometimes."

"I don't believe it," Ariadne scoffed.

His smile softened and he leaned across the table slightly. "Perhaps you're the only one, my dear."

She reached out impulsively and grasped his hand, feeling the rough callouses along his fingers. "Maybe you don't let anyone see past that."

"Maybe there's nothing there to see," he countered, though he rubbed the back of her hand with the ball of his thumb. "Perhaps you lift up every mask and find a hollow shell beneath."

"I think that's what you want me to believe," Ariadne said softly, not flinching from his gaze.

There was a faint air of disbelief in his smile at her. "You think the best of everyone, don't you?"

"Well, not everyone. I didn't trust Cobb enough to keep everyone safe on the job, after all. I saw parts of what he was hiding."

Eames laughed, his grip tightening slightly on her hand. "Perhaps there _is_ a streak of self preservation about you after all."

"What do you mean?"

"You're interested in me," he said baldly, and she didn't flinch or deny it. "That's not always a safe proposition, darling."

The endearment nearly made her shiver. "I'm a big girl, Eames. I knew what I was getting into."

"Did you now?" His smile wasn't patronizing in the least. It seemed more predatory, especially when his eyes sparkled. "So what are you getting into?"

"Something dangerous," she said, her voice dropping into a lower register as she leaned forward, her eyes fixed on his. "Something my friends would say I should regret but I won't."

"Oh?"

"Where's the fun in playing it safe? The adventures only come when you're willing to take a risk. Otherwise, why bother?"

He laughed, a measure of relief in it. "Oh, Ariadne. You really are lovely."

"Do you have a place here?" she asked, words bold even as her cheeks pinked slightly.

"I was wrapping up loose ends," Eames replied. "It's mine for the rest of the week."

"We should make use of it, don't you think?"

His grin was wolfish and made her heart stutter in anticipation. "I would like to see what you look like in my other shirts. Or in nothing at all."

"Or wearing you?" she returned, lips curling into a smile. She didn't know why she was suddenly so brave and casual about this, but the look on his face was worth it.

"We're leaving now," he said abruptly, tossing a few Euros on the table to cover their half eaten breakfast.

They hurried to the flat he had rented, and he had her in his arms with his mouth fastened over hers instantly. Without preamble, Ariadne started unbuttoning the orange shirt and pulling it from his shoulders. He wore a simple white cotton tank beneath it, and she pulled that out of his trousers. She ran her hands across his skin, feeling his muscles move and shift as he worked his shirt from her shoulders. Ariadne smiled against his mouth as she unknotted her scarf from his throat. "Did you miss me? Is that why you kept this?"

"Perhaps I just wanted a reminder," he said against her mouth, though it wasn't quite the admission she wanted.

"Show me what you wanted to remember," Ariadne said, pulling back long enough to smile at him through her lashes. She pulled off her cami so that she was bare to the waist in front of him. "Show me everything."

He pulled the tank from his torso and seized her mouth in a rough, passionate kiss. His hands were large and covered her breasts entirely as he grasped her and started to direct her backward toward the bedroom. When she stumbled, Eames broke their kiss to sweep her up into his arms and carry her into the bedroom. He laid her down gently, then started to work the button of her jeans. Ariadne attacked his khakis, making him grin rakishly at her. "Someone's impatient," he taunted.

"I want to see you," Ariadne said, lifting her hips so that he could pull off her jeans. He hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and drew them down at the same time, making sure he was in constant contact with her skin. Her breath caught, and she looked up at him with eyes glazed by lust. She sat up and leaned forward to yank down his khakis and briefs, pressing her lips to the bare skin of his abdomen.

Eames sucked in a ragged breath. "You're bloody perfect, Ariadne."

"I'm short," she countered, looking up at him from where she was kissing him. He was half erect and not far from her lips at all.

"Doesn't matter," he said, a gravelly undertone to his voice. "You're not someone easy to forget."

Flattered, Ariadne slid from the bed and fell to her knees in front of him. She grasped his hips in her hand and closed her lips over the head of his cock, making him groan slightly. She couldn't take all of him into her mouth, even though he wasn't fully erect, and she looked up at him through her eyelashes. Eames let his fingertips rest lightly over the top of her head. "God, Ariadne. That's so bleeding hot."

Ariadne smiled around him and let her tongue swirl around him lazily. He groaned, then abruptly pulled back. "What is it?"

"Your mouth isn't where I want to be," he said, lifting her to the bed in one fell swoop.

Eames kissed her again, long and deep. His body covered hers completely and pressed her down against the bed. He shifted so that he was propped up on one forearm, taking some of his weight off of her. Ariadne ran her hand along his arm, fingers brushing across the deltoid before reaching back as far as she could. He was massive above her, but it was comforting on some level, because he was touching her with such reverence. As much as he wanted her, that his eyes were blown wide with lust, he was being careful not to hurt her with his sheer difference in size and muscle mass.

Eames layered kisses down her neck and then took a breast into his mouth. Her breath left her lungs in a rush as he sucked gently on the nipple, his tongue flicking over the peaked tip. She moaned and let her hands run across his back to the nape of his neck. She tangled her fingers in his hair, keeping him close and encouraging him to continue. He shifted more of his weight on his forearm so that he could rest his other hand on her chest. His rough, calloused hands stroked her other breast, then came to play with her nipple. Ariadne moaned again, scratching at his scalp with her nails, making him smile against her skin.

Just when she thought she could come from that alone, he moved his hand so that his fingers found her wet center. She spread her legs wide for him, giving him better access, and he gently brushed his fingers through her folds. He dipped a finger inside her, then dragged it across her clit. Ariadne bucked her hips against him, crying out in pleasure at the contact. He shifted to take her other breast into his mouth, sucking a little harder as she clung to his shoulders and threw a leg around his hip to open herself to his touch.

"Someone's eager," he teased, pressing slightly harder against her clit.

"Don't stop," Ariadne pleaded, tilting her hips. He chuckled and covered her mouth with his as he worked her to an orgasm. She cried out, arching up against him, her sensitive nipples brushing across his bare chest. Eames slid a finger inside her, feeling her flutter and contract. "Oh," she moaned, head lolling on the bed. "There, please, more."

He slid another finger inside her, stretching her a bit, before pulling them out. Ariadne mewled in protest, making him chuckle against her mouth. He drew the slicked fingers across her folds and then rubbed her clit again. Ariadne writhed beneath him, raking her nails across his shoulders. She could feel them flex and shift beneath her hands as he worked her hard, and his erection was pressed against her hip. She tried shimmying against it, and Eames drew his mouth back from hers to groan. "Naughty girl."

"I want more," she panted as his fingers sped up, and she couldn't even care about the smug smile on his face. Another flick of his fingers against her and then she came again, arching up and crying out. He didn't stop, just kept up that same intense rhythm so that the aftershocks of that orgasm just rode higher toward another one. "God, don't stop," she pleaded, pulling his head down to kiss him again. "Don't stop, I need to come."

When she did, it was with a small scream that was swallowed up by his kiss, his tongue sliding into open mouth. He then plunged his fingers inside her, stretching and curling, hitting spots she never knew existed. He pumped his hand hard and fast, and Ariadne had to break the kiss to breathe. "Come for me," Eames whispered, voice rough with need. His eyes locked with hers as he worked her hard and fast, his thumb sliding over her clit with every stroke. "Let me see you. Let me hear you."

Ariadne shattered, body tensing and arching, inner muscles clenching down hard around his thick fingers. She cried out, nails digging deep into his shoulders as her eyes fell shut. She was overwhelmed by the sensation of him, and her body fell limp against the bed.

"So beautiful," he growled, and she opened her eyes with effort. Carefully, Eames withdrew his fingers from her center and licked them clean, never breaking eye contact. Then he shifted again, positioning himself at her slick opening. He moved slowly, aware of how big he was compared to her tiny frame, and he was able to push all the way inside her. "Good?"

"God, yeah," she moaned, reaching out to run her hands against his chest. She scratched lightly as he grinned at her, smug and self satisfied already. "Gonna just watch me all day?"

"I could," Eames murmured, starting to slide out of her very slowly. Just when it seemed that he would pull all the way out of her, he slammed his length inside of her. His laughter was pleased and smug and full of desire all at once, and Ariadne lifted her hips to meet his.

Then there was nothing but the sound of gasping breath, skin on skin and the slick sounds of sex. Ariadne gasped and came again as he moved inside of her, tightening around him enough to make him curse and lose his rhythm. Eames picked it back up, tongue caught in the corner of his mouth as he tried to concentrate. She reached up and touched his cheek, startling him. His eyes locked with hers and he lost that thin thread of control he was trying to hang onto. He came with a strangled groan, shuddering above her. His arms gave out, and he collapsed on top of her with a sigh.

He rolled to the side a little, which helped her regain the ability to breathe. Ariadne rolled over on top of him, touching his face gently. "That was fantastic," she said with a soft smile, hoping it wouldn't inflate his ego too much. "You have until the rest of the week, you said?"

"You'll break me, darling," he murmured softly. There was a smile on his face, though, and he tugged on a lock of hair affectionately.

"Where are you going after that?" she asked.

"Where the wind takes me. That's the usual way of it. Perhaps back to Mombasa."

"You could stay. Maybe," she added hastily, so it sounded less desperate than it suddenly seemed to her own ears.

But Eames gave a tired laugh. "You're asking? Not about to toss me out on my arse, are you?"

"No," she said with a soft smile, running her fingertips across his kiss-swollen lips. "But my apartment is tiny."

"Would be difficult, squeezing me into that space," he said with a sage nod. There was no particular inflection in his words, and the indifferent mask was on his face.

"Though we'd probably wind up sharing clothes," Ariadne continued, as if she hadn't just realized where his vulnerable spot was. "So closet space might not be that big a deal."

Eames snickered. "I can't tell if that's supposed to be an insult or not."

"It's an invitation," Ariadne replied before she could think about it. Her friends would no doubt think it was a mistake. They always thought these things were a mistake, and didn't understand her thrillseeking ways.

Something shifted in his eyes; he was hanging on her words, on her expression, trying to see if she was being serious. She stared him in the eye, willing him to see that she wasn't trying to hurt him, wasn't trying to joke at his expense. He reached up to cup her face in his hand, gentle as he was before. His expression was thawing somewhat, wonder and wariness in his gaze. "You'll come to regret the invitation someday," he told her quietly.

She turned and pressed her lips against his palm. "I won't." She smiled at him, her eyes sparkling. "I won't regret this, won't regret meeting you."

"It won't always be safe, darling."

Ariadne kissed the palm of his hand again. "Then you'd best teach me how to stay safe, shouldn't you?"

Eames pulled her down onto him, then rolled on top of her. His body covered hers completely, pressing her down into the mattress. "Who protects you from me?"

"You."

He kissed her hungrily, pulling at her bottom lip gently. "No looking back," he cautioned her. "No regrets."

"Not a one."

There weren't any further words that day. He didn't have many belongings, and they fit easily into her tiny apartment. True to her word, Ariadne didn't regret a thing.

The End


End file.
